It was 5 p.m., and the sun was starting to set on the snowfields above Tuckerman Ravine. They say nothing good happens after 3 p.m., up there as the shade line creeps across the bowl, but that day was different. I’d just ticked off every bucket-list run in Tucks and was capping off the day with my partner Hilary, who’d come up to meet me just in time for my ninth run. It was a classic spring day that every New England backcountry skier seeks, and little did I know that it would set me on the path to discovering what New Hampshire’s Presidential Range really has to offer.

There’s no question why Tuckerman Ravine is
the epicenter of New England backcountry. Its fetch builds a 50-foot base over
the course of the winter, catching snow from all angles as the prevailing
northwest winds constantly load snow in the massive, 1,000-foot basin. There
are so many reasons to love this zone, but as I worked through all the runs
that day, I knew there was more incredible skiing to be found in the
Presidentials.

A few weeks later, Hilary and I ventured
into the northern Presidentials and confirmed that there’s so much more than
just the low-hanging fruits of the Pinkham “Front Range.” We made our way up to
Crag Camp, a shelter that hangs on the western edge of King Ravine, a zone with
a reputation for unpredictable lines riddled with closeout ice bulges. It was
there where my perspective shifted; no longer were we in familiar territory,
and the little beta that did exist helped the area feel new and refreshing.

The climb up from Randolph had taken us
longer than expected, and with heavy packs and transitioning seasons we
struggled up the direct approach along a hiking trail. The late-setting May sun
played in our favor and after arriving at the shelter we were set on getting a
few turns in before calling it a day. The first line we saw was one that closed
out, but it was worth every turn, with views that stretched far northward into
the valley below. While this was hardly all that King Ravine had to offer, it
was important to get familiar with this striking zone.

The next morning we awoke to clear weather
and knew that we had an opportunity to push south and spend the entire day in
the high alpine. We gained the ridgeline at Thunderstorm Junction, from where
we had our first views of Mt. Washington, 3.5 miles away with innumerable
chutes, gullies and snowfields separating us. There’s something special about
being above tree line in the Whites, especially on the rare days where the wind
lays down and the skies extend clear into Vermont. We dropped into Jefferson
Ravine and were stripping layers on the 1,200-foot bootpack out. This was what
skiing in the northern Presidentials was all about: remote lines with no one
around but the occasional hiker we passed while linking back up with the
Gulfside Trail.

The last objective of the day was a line
over in the Great Gulf. It took a while to cover this stretch, with skis on our
packs and miles of rockhopping. The sun was setting, it was well after 3 p.m.,
and we had already been touring for more than eight hours—fatigue and hunger
were starting to set in. By the time we made it over to the line, we were
questioning our ability to hike back out and settled on just skiing the line’s
upper half.

I though the steep entrance would make for
a great photo, so Hilary hung back with the camera while I made my way over to
the drop. More focused on making a great turn than investigating the snowpack,
I tunneled the tip of one of my skis beneath a rotten section of snow, and the
next thing I knew I was a couple hundred feet down the line, struggling to
self-arrest. Somehow I managed to dig my feet in and paused to take inventory
on the situation.

I was uninjured, but my right ski had
snapped in half, and our tour was officially done. It was a five-mile hike back
to Crag Camp, and with all that had gone right and horribly wrong on this tour,
I knew there was so much more to learn and explore in the far reaches of the
White Mountains.

—

Andrew Drummond is a life-long skier based out of the White Mountains who owns and operates the backcountry ski shop Ski The Whites in Jackson, N.H.This essay first appeared in Backcountry’s Boundless Issue (#133).

Listen to the Backcountry Podcast

Current Issue

2020 Editors’ Choice Gear

Buy the 2020 Gear Guide

Uphill Travel

We’ve compiled a database of U.S. resorts with a little about each individual policy—where and when skinning is allowed, whether or not it’s free during operating hours and the link directly to the resort’s guidelines.